


glorious

by orphan_account



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Mentions of Blood, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5461313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>when the time is right and there's no way out</i>
  <br/>
  <i>and I ain't losing something I ain't got</i>
</p><p>The time Ladybug almost died. </p><p>(what you're about to walk into: a shower scene w/o sex ; warning for blood)</p>
            </blockquote>





	glorious

**Author's Note:**

> so a) i can't help myself and b) this is almost completely self-indulgent. as always. apologies if some of it doesn't make sense, because at this point i'm sick of editing lmao
> 
> enjoy!

Looking at her now, all banged up and bruised, he can't help the worry in his heart. Sure, they've seen better days, but this was serious. This was huge and bleeding and if she didn't stop to dodge—

God, he doesn't want to imagine what would happen if she hadn't taken the chance to get away from the akuma. He doesn't want to think about how he would have far more to stitch up, how he would have to treat her like porcelain. Even right now she's gritting her teeth and telling him she isn't fragile but the thoughts can't leave his head and he's still worried. 

"It's fine, really." She's lying through her teeth, he can tell. She's trying her best to alleviate his worries, pretending not to flinch when she moves even slightly. There's a faint feeling of drying blood on the spaces where his suit had ripped but he ignores them to tend to her. When he inspects the wounds his heart tries its best not to sink, watching as she flinches when his fingers move over the injured skin. 

It's probably against his better judgement but he shakes his head and closes the first aid kit for the time being. 

"What?" She sounds exhausted but watches the droop of his head. 

"Can't stitch these up unless they're clean." For a moment he lets his eyes shut, a momentary respite from exhaustion. 

"There's wipes in there, y'know." He shakes his head and opens his eyes. 

"Not what I meant, princess." He stands up slowly, hand on the wall of her room to brace himself. He extends a gloved hand out to her, feeling a small stab of pain shoot through his arm as she puts her weight onto him. She leans on him, eyes weary. 

He releases his transformation and lets his tired kwami tumble out, a tiny black ball on the palm of his hand. Setting him down on her table, he indicates for her to do the same, slowly but surely tugging her to the bathroom. He winces at the bright flash of light and watches her cradle her own kwami, gently lowering her to the table. 

At the door to her bathroom she looks at him incredulously, too tired to voice out her concerns. She's leaning against the wall as he starts to pull off his clothes, trying her best to muster up the energy to say something. In the end she swallows what she has to say, the look on his face too serious, too unlike the boy she knows. 

"We need to get clean, princess. In the interest of time, this is the fastest method." His voice is tired and he thinks she's fainted with how silent the room is until he hears her clothes gently pelting the ground as well. Wearily she opens the door and turns the light on, stepping onto the cold tile. She turns the knob to hot, wincing as the water runs cold, then hot. He joins her silently, the only sound being the water rushing out of the shower head. 

He comes behind her and wraps his arms around her tiny figure, chin resting on her head. He could have lost her today, he thinks. He could have lost the single most important person in his life. It's not like she was careless, she rarely was, but still. In his mind he could almost see the end of her had he not caught her there and then, right before she plummeted to the ground. 

She's the world to him and more. He can't lose her. He just _can't_. Unconsciously he grips her tighter, burying the bottom half of his face into her wet hair. The water stings as it hits the gash on his back, but he could not care less. 

" _Babe_." He blinks at the sound of her voice but screws his eyes shut again, face hot. She shifts in his arms and wipes his face with her pruned up fingers, smearing the tears to the side. At the same time she takes stock of all the cuts and abrasions he has, marring his skin where he has taken damage. There's a long gash where his bicep was, with smaller, shorter dashes lined across his collarbones. She doesn't dare to look elsewhere, but she knows that he was worse for wear. 

Her heart is heavy when she thinks about how this was all her fault, how they wouldn't be here in her bathroom covered in cuts if not for her almost dying. She presses herself into him just a bit harder, a way of saying that she was _here_. Not dead. Here, in his arms, _alive_. The idea of leaving him physically pains her and she can almost feel the stab of fear in his heart when he almost lost her. 

Now she's crying too, salt in her tears making her wince when they run across the light scrape on her face. Under the water pressure they can't hear anything else, but they hold the other a little tighter, heartbeat in their ears. At some point she pulls herself together enough to choke out " _we're okay_ " and all he does is pull her tighter against him, a muffled " _don't you dare do that again_ " escaping him. The rest of the world fades away from them until the cuts on their body no longer sting. 

Then it's back to routine and she smoothes antiseptic soap over the cuts on her body. She flinches in disgust when grime starts to mix with it, making the water at her feet run grey and pink. Groggily she rinses her face and turns to face him, gently cleaning him off as well. His face is still hot in her hands when she lifts his chin. 

"Look at me." Her voice is barely a whisper above the water and his eyes are rimmed with red. The bags under his eyes are especially heavy, she notes. "We're okay."

"You almost died." His answer is biting and the tinge of regret in her heart grows. She searches for something to say but his arms return to her waist, a death grip on her skin. 

She lifts her head and suddenly his lips are pressed to hers, her body cradled in his hands. She can feel his heartbeat through his skin, hands pressed against his chest. He pulls away after a few seconds, breathing hard. 

"Be careful next time." The red around his eyes hasn't left and the guilt sets in, a sinking stone in her chest. She nods weakly, and turns the water off. 

Her hands fumble to turn the water off before passing him a towel. She dries her hair the best she can and wraps the towel around herself, since she was going to have to be exposed for him to stitch her up, anyways. From the looks of it he does the same and they return to her chaise, fetching her first aid kit. 

They take turns fixing the other up, fingers gentle as they apply antiseptic and layer on bandages. They whisper words of encouragement when they have to break out the needle, while the other bit down on their lip and bore it. Eventually when all was done she changed into her pajamas and he dug around in the bottom of her chest of drawers for the clothes he kept for instances like this. They fell into her bed, both too tired to care. 

She dozes off the second her head touches the pillow while he wraps himself around her, as though to protect her from anything that would come in the night. 

He wouldn't let anything happen to his Ladybug. 

_Not again_.


End file.
